Keeping Kisses
by RubyPearl
Summary: OneShot, RH. Hermione's hopelessly in love with Ron, and he's the only one who doesn't know. What happens when she decides to tell him late one night?


**Hey everyone, I got a burst of inspiration the other night and wrote this Hermione/Ron one-shot. I'm quite proud of how it turned out. Let me know what you all think.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I do however own this plot and Hermiones fascination with stars. Hahaha

Keeping Kisses (H/R One-Shot)

Sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the night sky, Hermione could hear Ginny's light snores, unable to sleep herself. Gazing up at the sky, she wondered how something so simple could be so beautiful and magnificent. Her fascination with stars was nothing new; at the tender age of nine, she would climb onto her roof, lying on her back to watch the specks of light shine from the dark blanket draped behind them. Sure, she knew they were merely dust particles, but they were beautiful dust particles. Simple, yet beautiful.

Not unlike a certain redhead she knew. Whom she loved with all her heart. Unfortunately, he wasn't interested in her "that way." They were best friends, that's all. Plus, he was the last person she would have ever thought she'd fall in love with. He was everything she wasn't. He wasn't exactly the brightest Wizard; he didn't really have much concern for rules, and so many other things. But he made her laugh, and he was a good friend. He was sure of himself in that awkward sort of way and didn't really care what others thought; he was everything she wished she could be. But, oh how he infuriated her. He was completely daft and hadn't the slightest idea that she was madly, hopelessly in love with him. Yep, Hermione Granger had it bad for Ronald Weasley. And everyone knew it, that is, except for Ron.

It was sheer torture living in the same house as him, seeing him every day, the accidental brushing of skin against skin, getting to be with him without getting to be with him. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. It was driving her mental.

A soft tap on the door brought her back to reality.

"'Mione." His voice, though he spoke barely above a whisper, filled her ears. "You wanted to talk?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from the night sky to look at the eighteen-year-old standing in her doorway. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized, much to her dismay, that he wore only pajama bottoms. That was something else that tore her up--he was always traipsing around shirtless, showing off the muscles he had acquired from playing Quidditch.

Hermione could only nod.

"Yeah," she replied, regaining her voice. Standing from the chair, she glanced over at Ron's sleeping sister. "But not here."

Ron nodded and led the way out of the room.

Hermione followed the boy into the kitchen wordlessly. She took a seat at the table as he lit a candle. Finally joining her a few seconds later, Ron took the seat opposite of her.

"So…"

The two sat in an awkward silence for a few moments before Hermione cleared her throat and worked up the courage to say something.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," she began somewhat weakly. His blue eyes regarded her with nothing but kind patience. "Well, you see…I kind of…I--IthinkI'minlovewithyou."

Ron stared at her, trying to decipher her words. Hermione was suddenly aware of all the quiet noises of the house: the distant snores coming from various rooms, creaks of the house settling, the water rushing through pipes as an unknown family member used the toilette. Hermione drew a deep breath, bracing herself for what came next. All the possible reactions Ron could have raced through her mind, but after a few seconds, she told herself that the way to find out is to get it over with. Her eyes drifted to her wrung hands resting on the table.

"Ron, I think I may…." There was no easy way of saying this; maybe it would be best if she just showed him.

Ron's eyes held confusion as Hermione approached him and placed herself on his lap. But this wasn't her. The normal Hermione didn't have the courage to do this, yet, here she was on Ron's thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her mouth to his. Then again, this wasn't the 'normal' Hermione; this was love-stricken, desperate-to-know-the-truth Hermione.

Merlin, his lips were warm and soft, more so than she had imagined.

A first, Ron sat there unresponsive, and then he began to respond to Hermione, moving with her. She buried her hands deep in his dark red locks as she had fantasized about doing for so long. The kiss was better than anything she could ever dream up. Then it hit her that Ron might not feel the same way about her, and she pulled away with haste, jumping from his lap as if burned.

"I'm sorry," she apologized immediately, her hands concentrating on her wrung hands. "I just had to let you know; it was killing me. I understand if you don't feel the same--"

"Hermione." Ron's soft, gentle voice brought her out of her rambling.

Hermione met his eyes, and swore she was hallucinating when Ron reached for her hand and pulled her back to him. It took a second to get her legs working again for she was certain this had to be a dream, but she felt Ron tug on her arm slightly and stumbled that small step before landing in his lap.

"Hermione, I really like you too." Surely, this wasn't real, but it was, it must be for the tips of Ron's ears were bright red, and the sweet aroma of body soap and his oils surrounded her in a blissful haze. Moreover, his warm skin was beneath her palm, and his own hand placed on her lower back was sending chills through her whole body. "I didn't know how you felt about me though, so I didn't say anything." He leaned his mouth closer to her ear. "Not to mention, that you fit really nicely right here," he whispered before hooking his index finger under her chin and capturing her lips.

This time, neither of them held back. Opening their mouths to each other, their tongues danced a slow, beautiful dance.


End file.
